


Rest Comes With Love

by buckysinthesinbin



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff, Bucky is a sweetheart, F/M, Fluff, Mentions of Blood, Nightmares, Steve "Up at Six AM" Rogers, Tony "i must have giant windows" Stark, bucky is the best cuddler in the world, does the gym count as a warning???, mentions of my arch nemesis exercise, my love for bucky barnes is endless, so much swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:46:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23611759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckysinthesinbin/pseuds/buckysinthesinbin
Summary: **Exhaustion is a relative term.When most people think of the word they think of tiredness, an ache that won’t leave. A yearn for sleep, rest and relaxation. And they’re right, that's exactly what it is.But this is different.**
Relationships: Bucky Barnes/Reader, Bucky/reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 48





	Rest Comes With Love

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all, I usually post my works on good ol'Tumblr but I have since decided to move my posts over to AO3. I was hit with inspiration to write this late last night and here you go!! I hope you all enjoy :)

**

Exhaustion is a relative term.

When most people think of the word they think of tiredness, an ache that won’t leave. A yearn for sleep, rest and relaxation. And they’re right, that's exactly what it is.

But this is different.

**

4.00 am finds you at the gym. Numbers displayed on a clock, a mocking taunt of how sleep doesn’t come, how it evades you like the receding tide. It comes and goes in waves, this bone deep ache that can’t leave, like it's carved a perfect hole in your chest and settled there.

Pain blooms fierce across your knuckles, each hit against the heavy punching bag testing your tolerance. It’s funny, you think. Training during those short hours before dawn breaks over the horizon. Funny how your arms tremble, hands shake and knuckles bleed behind white tape. Funny how you feel hollow, carved out and filled with things you wish weren't there.

It's funny how the exhaustion keeps you awake.

5.00 am finds you on your knees. The weight of the earth resting on weathered shoulders and pushing you into the ground. It’s like being forced into your grave you think, bitterness sweeping in over the clouds. Labored breaths whisper through your lungs and you hope to god that by tiring out your body you also tire out your mind.

It feels like torture.

The world around you comes to life as the clock strikes 6.00 am, the numbers mocking you again from their place on the wall. Sunlight beams through the huge windows, warming rays of light soaking into your skin and yet you still feel cold. Always cold and alone and desperate for sleep.

“Good Morning, you’re up early”

His voice startles you, muscles tightening under weary skin. It hurts, forcing your body to stand and be on alert when you feel like the sky is collapsing and you’re the only one taking its weight.

“Morning Steve” You call, a sea of blond hair sweeping through the gym “Had an early start and I’d rather be here than staring at the ceiling”

“Can’t argue with that”

Offering him a strained smile you make your way towards the lockers as he heads straight for the treadmill. Thankful that he didn't comment on the redness of the tape across your hands, or the haunted look in your eyes that comes from more than just lack of sleep.

**

Sitting at the kitchen counter you curse out loud, voice nothing more than a muted swirl of profanities. Tony Stark is a fucking idiot for putting floor to ceiling windows in the kitchen because you can’t see a damn thing with the sun glaring through the glass like it has a personal plan to make you half blind.

“Well, you look like shit”

Fact, Bucky Barnes is a bastard who has no verbal filter and if it were socially acceptable you’d punch him in the dick with no regrets.

Swallowing a mouthful of boiling coffee you roll your eyes and stick up your middle finger in his general direction,

“I’m fully capable of kicking your ass Barnes”

He laughs at that, warm like honey and as gentle as the breeze between blades of grass. Hands running through soft brown locks as he saunters over to the pot of coffee on the counter. He wears dark jeans and a soft grey jumper, the fabric swallowing his hands. He looks comfortable and warm and my god how you wish you could be warm as well.

“Sure you are sweetheart” He grins, a taunting glitter in his eyes, teasing.

You can’t find it in you to smile back.

If it were any other day you’d quip back and forth with him as easily as breathing. But today your bones are heavy like lead and even the thought of thinking up things to say is enough to make your head pulse.

“I’m gonna head back to bed Buck, I’ll see you later”

**

Dreams are haunted you think, ghosts from the past linger there. Watching, waiting for you to slip and fall into endless depths, an ocean of souls pulling you into the center of the earth so you can burn along with them.

Dreams are haunted, and you wake up screaming.

“It’s okay, you’re okay” Soft words are spoken in your ear “You’re alright sweetheart I’m right here” Flesh and Metal comb back your hair, a beautiful contrast that pulls you from the depths of your dreams.

“Bucky?”

It’s pathetic how much you cling to him you think. How you fist the fabric of his sweater and shake so much it's like you're falling apart at the seams. How you whisper his name to confirm he’s actually there.

“I’m here, I’m right here”

Sweat cools on your skin, the stickiness of it making you want to crawl out of your own body but you don’t care. Because he’s there, Bucky is right there and he’s looking at you through an endless sea of calm blue ocean, concern set in the furrow of his brow and the slight clench to his jaw.

Sobs work themselves free from the cage of your ribs, and once you’ve started you just can’t stop. Sorrow begins to turn your insides blue with grief, it hurts, holding onto all this pain and hurt and exhaustion.

Oh god, will you always be this tired, will this exhaustion hold you hostage until you pull the trigger yourself?

“I’m so tired Buck, so fucking tired”

“C'mere sweetheart”

He climbs into bed with you, his warm unyielding body curving around your sharp edges and filing them smooth. You’d stay forever in the safe cage of his arms if you could. He’s always kept you safe from the horrors in your head, his unshakable loyalty carving a beautiful pattern into your soul, a pattern only he knows how to fill.

You love him you think, as the whisper of his breath across your neck lulls you to sleep.

**

Exhaustion is a relative term, which no longer applies to you.

Waking from the most peaceful sleep you’ve had in weeks you stretch from the tips of your fingers, to the tips of your toes. Strong arms tighten around your body and the feel of them makes you smile ear to ear. Settling back into the safe warmth of Bucky’s hold you swallow back a laugh as he practically purrs in your ear.

2.00 pm find you comfortable and warm and filled with love for the man plastered to your back.

He wakes with a flutter of dark lashes and delicate smiles. The scent of cinnamon and honey fills the air and you swear you're drunk on this man who holds your heart in the palm of his mismatched hands.

“Hi sweet girl” He rumbles, words vibrating against your back “You sleep okay?”

“Better once you were here” Your hand links with his own around your waist “Thank you Bucky, for being there when I needed you”

He squeezes your hand tighter,

“Always, sweetheart” Soft lips press against your temple, their touch feather light and barley there. A call of your name through the wind “Always”

**

**Author's Note:**

> Hi again, thank you for reading!! Please leave feedback, I live for validation <3


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